Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I am not the owner of either Harry Potter or the X-Men series. Both belong to J.K. Rowling and Marvel -Stan Lee- respectively. I'm just thankful they let me play with their brilliant characters.
Chapter 2
Hermione got her first glimpse of her grandfather as she rounded the final bend of the drive. In his state of the art wheel chair, he sat atop the steps to the front entrance with stained glass inlaid mahogany doors looming behind him in a rather grand fashion. Despite the numerous meters separating them she could discern that her grandfather looked much older and more careworn than the last time she had seen him. There were definitely more lines shadowing his once sharp aristocratic features- visual evidence that the years past had not been easy. She didn't even have to examine him any closer to know that his baby blues didn't shine quite as brightly as they had when she was but a young child pushing his chair around the mansion and questioning him about the most nonsensical things.
The reality that he had changed just as much as she had over the last ten years finally registered for Hermione. The revelation, oddly, soothed the edges of her frayed nerves better than any of Harry's numerous attempts to reassure her the past month.
With new found confidence, she slowed her Ducati to a stop just in front of the steps. The charmed kickstand immediately dropped to cradle the weight of her motorbike when she shut the engine off.
Hermione swung her left leg off to join the right whilst simultaneously removing her helmet in a fluid and unconsciously graceful movement that showcased her years of experience on motorbikes. She placed the helmet atop the leather seat then looked up to meet her grandfather's kind eyes for the first time in a decade.
"Hello, Grandfather," She whispered with a sad smile tilting her full lips.
"Hermione," he returned just as softly, his voice hitching slightly between the second and third syllable of her name.
One word - her name- is all it took for the fortress she had constructed to protect herself from the emotional turmoil of war to begin to crumble. The way he spoke her name- the way he lovingly pronounced the syllables, caressing them as if they were the most precious four he would ever speak- healed a long forgotten place in her heart where a scared little girl yearned for the comfort of her family.
And she couldn't find it in herself to deny herself proof that this was not a mere fantasy no matter how vulnerable and open to attack it made her feel. With effortless grace Hermione glided to his chair and leaned down to envelop the aristocratic mutant into a long overdue embrace.
A few traitorous tears slipped down her cheeks once she breathed in her grandfathers high end cologne. The familiar bergamot, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cardamom scents swirled around her. She inhaled them greedily, committing them to memory.
She just couldn't help herself.
Many a time throughout the years she believed she would never live long enough to ever bask in such an achingly familiar and homey scent again. To be able to do so once more… To know that she was alive and capable of sniffing her grandfather whenever she pleased… There were no words to describe how utterly amazing it felt.
Harry will never let me live this down. He was right. I did need to be here.Hermione thought with a put upon mental sigh before turning her attention back to the man in her arms.
"Grandfather, I'm sorry about not contacting you. I… I had to keep your existence as secret as possible… I had to protect you," Hermione echoed the words of her letter with as much sincerity as possible in his ear before straightening and stepping away while discreetly wiping the moisture from her cheeks.
"My dear child, how I've missed you so. I will not begrudge you for doing what you felt necessary to protect me from the war in your society. I'm just relieved to see that you are alive- for I've feared the worst in the years following the news of your parents death."
A blinding, yet relieved, smile spread across Hermione's face at his forgiving words, "Thank you."
"Do not dwell on it any longer, dearest. You are here and alive. That is all that matters. Now, what do you say to helping an old man inside? I believe we have just enough time for you to drop your things into your suite and then to be introduced to the professors before dinner. They have been quite eager to meet you ever since I informed the entire school that my magical granddaughter would be visiting."
Hermione re-shrank her Ducati and stored it. Then picked up her rucksack from where she had dropped it on the pavement without noticing.
"You let the magic out of the bag, Grandfather?" She chuckled as she grasped the handles of her grandfather's chair, pushing him inside the doors and down a familiar hallway towards the family wing.
"This is your home. You should be able to be yourself here."
Hermione couldn't argue with his logic. He made a valid point. Besides who was she to argue with him? This is his school. He can run it however he sees fit.
"Well that will certainly will make things much more simple," she pointed out. "I won't have to think of a suitable explanation if I'm seen doing something.. Odd."
In no time at all, they reached her suite. She knew without a doubt that it would look exactly as it had the last time she saw it just before fourth year. Her grandfather would not have changed a thing. When she flipped on the light, her suspicions were confirmed. Every detail of the brightly colored room was exactly as she had left it. Right down to the framed photos, the book on the nightstand, and the open wardrobe.
Hermione winced as she caught a glimpse of what adorned her lime green walls. What ever was I thinking when I put those up? she grumbled to herself. Redecoration is now at the top of my to-do list for tomorrow. This room obviously needs some new paint. But as soon as I get back from dinner, these posters are definitely history. There is no way I'll be able to sleep with those creepy posters of Lance Bass, Joey Fatone, Drew Lachey, Nick Carter, Robbie Wiliams, Gary Barlow, or any other washed out British and/or American teeny boppers giving me those creepy, wannabe seductive stares.
Hermione purposely avoided looking at the horrid walls any longer. She dropped her rucksack on top of her bed then removed both her riding jacket and gloves, adding them to the pile.
"So…how did they take it?" She queried curiously, leaving the room and pushing her grandfather back to the main part of the Manor where his office was located.
The wizened professor tilted his head back and smirked up at her. "With as much disbelief as can be expected. It was quite the interesting and humorous discussion. However; Hank, Ororo, and Scott have been quite chipper since they heard of your impending visit."
A small, slightly nostalgic smile spread across the young witches face at the mention of her surrogate uncle and childhood playmates.
Hank, also known as Beast, had to be the kindest man in the world despite his gigantic fright inducing appearance. Even as a child she hadn't shown any fear of him. Instead she had constantly sought him out to give her piggy back rides around the manor or to question. When she got older and her magic had went wonky, she had always been able to come to him for advice no matter how severe the situation. He didn't even whinge when she needed a shoulder to cry on after being teased. He had helped her grandfather and parents guide her through the most confusing time of her life.
Things had gotten better for Hermione when her grandfather brought Scott and Ororo to live a Xavier Manor. Although their abilities were not as out of control and unpredictable as hers, she was still able to relate to them. They had offered her acceptance and friendship when the children at her primary school back in England would shy away and call her a freak. Over the summers Scott and Ororo took on the roles of protective older siblings. Because of this, the three of them had developed a very deep bond during childhood.
Hermione snapped out of her reflections and her previously lowered guard went back up the moment they entered his office. Her muscles tensed and her senses came alive as adrenaline coursed through her veins. The subconscious defense mechanism her magic had developed during the war to scope out her surroundings obviously recognized more than just muggles, witches, or wizards. In the immediate area, her magical aura identified seven fairly powerful beings.
Her instincts began screaming at her to react, that these people were not mere humans and could be threats. Her right hand twitched as if to summon her wand while her left moved towards what would normally be the hilt of Sadalbari.
Hermione paused.
She took a few steps away from her grandfather and the mutants to help her reign in her fight or flight response.
The young witch then took a deep breath. In. She held it for thirty seconds, then released it slowly. She had to calm down and let her logic reign supreme. They were her grandfather's professors. She knew she would be encountering mutants. She shouldn't be acting this way. She shouldn't be attempting to attack them for merely existing. It took every ounce of control in Hermione's possession to relax her hands from their defensive position.
"Now, for introductions," the Professor began, clueless to Hermione's inner battle.
A slightly wrinkled, but incredibly elegant hand pointed towards the sofa closest to her and furthest from his desk, "This is Kurt Wagner, also known as Nightcrawler. He possess' superhuman agility, the ability to teleport, and the ability to climb walls."
Hermione observed the mutant with criticizing eyes. He was a most intriguing being. The thin mutant had blue skin scarred with ancient sigils, long claw-like nails, a forked tail, and canary yellow eyes. The mutant's body was like one huge puzzle waiting to be solved. Hermione wasn't a curse breaker, not by a long shot, but even her own mind wanted to linger on his form and decipher the sigils on his skin. She couldn't tear her eyes away even though it was incredibly rude to stare for so long.
"A pleasure," he decreed in a heavy German accent. His accompanying cheeky wink caused heat to flood her face for she knew she had been caught ogling him.
She averted her eyes and instead focused her gaze on the woman beside him. The tell-tale white hair and mocha skin could not have belonged to any other than Ororo. The weather goddess was even more beautiful now than she had been when they were children. Hermione flashed her a warm smile.
"And of course you know Ororo. Beside her is..."
"Gambit, or Remy. Whichever ye prefer ta call me, Cher," The lanky man with his arm draped across Ororo's shoulders in a familiar manner interrupted. He had a slightly hypnotic and heavily French influenced accent. "Remy can manipulate de kinetic energy ta make tings blow up. Also good wit de charm and fightin' wit de staff. I gotta say, Cher, it be nice ta be meetin' de Professor's family."
"Likewise," Hermione responded as she scrutinized him.
Dirty blond hair fell from beneath his haphazardly placed fedora to his shoulders where it highlighted his strong jaw. The hat and sunglasses obscuring his eyes gave him a decidedly devil may care feel that perfectly matched his drawl. The image was helped along by his relaxed manner which hinted towards his disinterest about what went on around him. Hermione had found herself in a similar state enough herself to know differently though. The relaxed, 'I don't care' stance was all an act to lull others into a false sense of security and hide just how alert he was.
"And then we have Hank and Scott."
Her attention strayed from Mr. Nonchalance LeBeau when her grandfather's words registered. On the sofa closest to her grandfather's desk sat Hank with a smile so wide it looked painful. He seemed older than the last time they met, but he had aged well. The bespeckled, grinning man on his left was none other than Scott. She would have been able to identify him without her grandfather's introduction even though she hadn't seen him since his teenage years. His signature red RayBan's pretty much gave away his identity.
However, she didn't recognize the willowy, auburn beauty tucked into his shoulder. Hermione looked at the blue eyed woman curiously. Her and Scott were obviously lovers. Their position screamed intimacy.
"Hermione, this is Scott's wife, Jean. She is both telepathic and telekinetic," Hank introduced boisterously, confirming her suspicions about their relationship.
"Like Grandfather," Hermione surmised with a tilt of her head as she focused her ambient magic to get a better read on the power of the woman in front of her. After all, she was married to a man the young witch considered family. "I must confess that I'm glad I learned to shield my mind years ago. I'd likely go spare with two powerful telepaths capable of taking a stroll up top," Hermione admitted with a playful tap to her temple.
Jean offered an understanding nod, probably accustomed to having people not want her in their heads.
"I had wondered why I wasn't capable of passively entering your mind any longer. You must describe this method of shielding sometime soon."
Hermione squeezed his shoulder to show her acquiescence to his request.
"Now, the last professor, Logan- or Wolverine as he prefers- is our resident feral."
She looked towards the wall her grandfather indicated. Her head tilted to the side in interest as she got a good look at the final mutant. Dressed in boots, worn jeans, and a t-shirt that accentuated his powerful build…he was… ruggedly handsome. With a patrician nose, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw- this Logan had a wild beauty to him that Hermione appreciated more than she would ever admit.
The feral was a soldier, or had been at some point in his life. What was that adage? Once a soldier, always a soldier? And Hermione knew the signs of a soldier when she saw them. She could identify his military background by the hard set of his jaw, impassive features, and confident stance. Beyond that, it was evident by his eyes. Logan's greenish-grey orbs had the haunted, 'I've seen far too much death and destruction'quality Hermione saw every time she looked into the mirror.
Probably due to his violent background, Logan had this aura of danger surrounding him. It simultaneously enticed Hermione and put her on guard. He was lethal and knew it. In fact, he recognized it, embraced it even. It made the mutant confident in his ability to defend himself and others, but not cocky enough to believe himself invincible. It shone through in the casual way he leaned up against the wall- shoulders back, ankles crossed, arms folded across the chest, and head cocked with a wry, knowing smile as he surveyed her quite intently.
Logan was assessing her just as she was assessing him. She could feel herself being judged as his eyes raked over her well toned body from head to toe. And for some unknown, unexplainable reason, she hoped that she was not found wanting.
When his dark, stormy eyes caught Hermione's gaze, she did not look away. He may be an obviously dominant feral, but she would not submit so easily. She was better than that. She was a war veteran. She had survived an unimaginable hell and lived to tell the tale. Hermione Granger submitted to nobody without them having earned it. She proudly held his stare in an almost challenging manner.
Open surprise flitted across his emotionless face before he lifted a brow in subtle recognition of something kindred. She dipped her chin a few millimeters in his direction- an acknowledgment of sorts.
"Well, I do believe we should continue getting acquainted, or reacquainted, with one another in the dining hall. Dinner started ten minutes ago, if the students are left alone much longer I'm afraid they may decide to start another food fight," Her grandfather proclaimed before she could say anything.
Jean hurried to wheel him out of the room with the others rushing behind- expressions of worry and resignation twisting their countenance.
Well all of the professors, except for Logan and Remy. They lazily strolled behind the others - or rather Remy strolled whereas Logan walked with a slow, prowl like gate which hinted at the predator beneath the surface. Either way, neither showed much concern over this possible food fight. Their nonchalance seemed to say that this was nothing to fret over. It was all par for the course of being a professor.
Hermione followed behind at a much more sedate pace than even the aforementioned duo. Now that she knew all of the professors and their mutations, she would be able to relax a little bit in their presence. But she just needed a moment to acclimate herself to her surroundings and to prepare herself to enter a room full of unknown mutants. She didn't want to lose it and attack a room full of innocents just because she was unaccustomed to their presence.
She stopped at the door to take a few fortifying breaths. I can do this she told herself. I've faced Death Eater's, Werewolves, and Vampires. I've spit in the Dark Lord's face and told him to go fuck himself in between Crucio's. It's just a room full of untrained mutant teenagers. Even if they were to attack, I'm powerful enough to handle them. They would hardly be a match for me, even on my worst day. I can do this.
With her freshly bolstered Gryffindor traits reigning supreme, she pushed the door open.
All eyes turned to her and Hermione had to fight back a cringe at all of the unwanted attention. She felt her muscles tense slightly in response to her magic's distress, but managed to keep her cool, unaffected facade. She did her best to ignore the curious stares as she worked her way through the dinner line.
With a full plate, she walked further into the room. Her eyes immediately found the circular table where all of the adults were seated at the front of the hall. Her grandfather sat in the center where he could oversee the room with Hank and Scott flanking him. Remy and Ororo both sat next to Hank while Jean and Kurt sat next to Scott. The only open seat was between Logan and Ororo.
She approached and quickly took the available seat, hoping once she was a smaller target the students would ignore her presence. Unfortunately, that wasn't happening. Hermione could feel the collective stares of the students on her back. She could feel that they were watching her every move as if it were the most fascinating thing on earth. Her lip curled in a visible show of annoyance. She wanted to do nothing more than turn around and stare back - to challenge them. Her grip tightened on her silverware to compensate for the amount of restraint she was showing in regards to her more violent tendencies. If she were in her world, she would send all of them a little shock or hit them with a hex to showcase her annoyance.
"Yes, Chuck's granddaughter is here. Yes, she's a witch. Stop staring," The feral at her side snarled loud enough that it echoed around the room.
Apparently, Logan had the whole intimidation thing down pat. Hermione could sense everyone looking in another direction as quickly as possible. They obviously feared being on the ferals bad side.
The death grip on her fork loosened. The tension between her shoulder blades eased. She sighed in relief.
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it," he replied gruffly before going back to his dinner.
"Yeah, ya might make de Wolverine blush if ya do, Cher. He hates bein' singled out for doin' someting nice. Even fo de pretty ladies," Remy teased.
"Shut up before I make you, you Wiley Cajun," Logan growled.
Cajun...? Ah definitely explains the French influenced accent.
Remy leaned around Ororo, a mischievous smirk forming on his face. Having been present for the many fights, arguments, and prank wars between Harry, Sirius, the Weasley's, Remus, and Tonks- Hermione knew smirks like that never lead to anything good.
"Why were they staring anyway?" She asked before the Cajun could spit out his obviously goading retort.
Logan shrugged and went back to his dinner with a noncommittal grunt. Her attempt to head off a likely violent demonstration of their mutant abilities had succeeded.
"At the same time the school gained so many students, you stopped visiting. So not only are you unfamiliar, but they've just learned that there are beings more powerful than mutants. And you're one of those more powerful. You're a witch and they're curious. "
Ororo offered an understanding smile after her explanation. Due to the slumber parties they held as children where they bared their souls, Ororo more than anyone understood how much Hermione hated being different. How much she loathed being stared at like an exhibit at the zoo which happened often after an outburst of accidental magic at primary.
The war had only enhanced her feelings regarding the matter.
Hermione shifted uncomfortably.
"Lets not forget that a good portion of the students are hormone driven teenage males and that you're wearing leather pants with a tight top. They can't help but stare. You've grown into a total babe," Scott added with a sly wink.
His statement earned a soft, low growl from the man sitting beside her that Hermione was sure no one else noticed. It also got Scott a firm smack across the back of the head by his wife, but Hermione could tell that she was amused by his teasing.
But for the most part, his diversion worked. He always seemed to know when something was upsetting her, even as a child. So, like any big brother, he always worked to divert her thoughts to something else. Now instead of worrying about being stared at, Hermione was disgusted by the idea of being teenage wank material.
"Sweet Circe, Scott!" Hermione groaned loudly. "Did you really have to go there?"
"Of course I did. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't point out the obvious?"
"The perfect kind," Hermione sneered, not buying his innocent expression.
"So, Hermione, got a boyfriend back home?" Jean intervened with an obvious subject change.
All eyes turned towards the young witch as she choked on the sip of water she had taken.
"Uh...no?" she managed to choke out.
"You don't sound so sure."
Hermione scowled at Kurt. "I'm plenty sure," she affirmed.
"What about those two boys you were always hanging out with when you were younger.. Ron and Harry? Ever date one of them?"
"And on that note, I believe its time for me to depart," Her grandfather exclaimed looking mighty uncomfortable at the direction the conversation was taking.
"I think I'll join you," Hank added, rushing to stand and push the professor out of the dining hall.
The five occupants of the table watched their retreat with varying expressions of amusement.
"Soo... now that they're gone, tell us. Did you date one of them?" Scott prodded
"Ugh" Hermione groaned, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "That would be like dating... well, you Scott. I consider them brothers, so no.. I haven't dated either of them. Just the thought gives me the bleedin' willies.
"Anyone you're interested in?" Ororo asked with a sly smirk.
"Not lately, no. But I have been victim to some pretty lame pick-up lines. One or two made my top ten list."
"You have a top ten list for lame pick-up lines?"
Hermione shrugged a shoulder in response to Jean's question."I lived in the same house as Sirius for five years. He was an incorrigible flirt," she added as if that made a difference to them.
Ororo raised a brow as her lips tilted into a smirk."Sirius? Whose he? Is he cute?"
Yet another low growl came from the man beside Hermione. She glanced over with a furrowed brow. Seriously? Did he have Uncontrollable Growling Syndrome -a mutant version of Tourette's Syndrome- or something?
"I'll tell you about him some other time," Hermione evaded- regretting ever having mentioned him. She really didn't want to dredge up such sad memories of him now, or ever. But especially not in public.
"Yeah, you two can have girl talk later. I want to know more about this list of pick-up lines."
"What do you want to know about them, Scott?" She demanded through a yawn.
It suddenly hit Hermione that she was beyond tired. The restless nap she took on the plane in no way made up for her late night at the pub.
"I dunno, really. I'm just curious about them. Give us numbers one through three on your list."
"Alright, I'll give you the top three. But then I'm going to go sleep off my jet lag," She agreed, knowing that remembering the pick-up lines wouldn't be so bad.
She then held up three fingers.
"Alright coming in at number three- Roses are red, candle light flickers, after the meal its off with the knickers."
Hermione snorted, barely finishing the rhyme. That one always made her grin.
"Really?" Jean groaned in disbelief over the snorts of laughter the males let out.
"We were playing a drinking game when Sirius popped it out. He always rhymed them when we broke out the Fire Whiskey," Hermione defended with a shake of her head.
She dropped a finger.
"At number two is the ever so popular- I'm Gay, think you can convert me?"
All of the men smirked at this one. No doubt they had used it at some point or another. As she got ready to say the last one, she caught a fit of the giggles. This line was one of a kind, if a bit lame. But nothing would ever beat Sirius dramatically dropping down on one knee before her and delivering it with a Hollywood vampire-esque accent. A soft snort escaped at the memory she used to conjure her patronus.
Hermione shook her head to shake out her giggle fit and dropped the final finger.
"Last, but certainly my all time favorite, is -Come to me, pretty lady, and let me slay you with my words of love."
"You're kidding!" Ororo exclaimed between giggles.
"I assure you, I am not. Now, not to be rude, but I'm off to bed."
Hermione stood and left the dining hall- her companions roaring laughter echoing in her wake.
As you can probably tell, I decided against using Victor at the last minute. Things just weren't working out well when I tried to write him in. He seemed... out of place. Sorry. But if it makes you feel better, I have decided to do a bit of Harry/Gambit as a side pairing in future chapters. ^_^
Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and added this story to their favorites!